MODERN WISDOM NUMBER 212 JUNE 2016

MODERN WISDOM: AMERICA’S ONLY HUMOR MAGAZINE

NUMBER 212
JUNE 2016
Copyright 2016 Francis DiMenno
dimenno@gmail.com
http://www.dimenno.wordpress.com

1.NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES

1101.She treated you like a dog. But…you are a dog.

1102. It’s not over until it’s over. Guess what? It’s over.
1103. You are lost on a wild sea of adult pain.
1104. The evidence needed for your alibi has been lost forever.
1105. The Big Man will reward all his henchmen–except you.
1106. Listen, creep–blow town. You’re all washed up around here.
1107. You will go kicking and screaming into that good night.
1108. You think you’re the Big Cheese–but you’re just another rat.
1109. They look in your eyes and see a corpse.
1110. You don’t get a pass this time–you stink of failure.
1111. Fool! You interfere at the peril of your own life.
1112. No shelter from the storm of the Big Man’s wrath.
1113. Every hope you cling to will become another trap.
1114. Wallow in comforting lies. The truth will get you nowhere.
1115. You’re a poisonous spider. Fortunately, your web is very small.
1116. You are a small boy’s idea of a Big Shot.
1117. Final reel of your movie: death of an old con.
1118. You’ll be the guest of honor at the Hangman’s Ball.
1119. You relish your despair because you live to fail.
1120. A whorehouse was your kindergarten; your high school was jail.
1121. Your lonely heart beats rapidly while everything dissolves.
1122. You wander through life half alive, but mostly dead.
1123. You’re not Jesus; you’re one of the Romans. A weakling.
1124. The world’s full of liars, but you’re lying to yourself.
1125. You swore Eternal Fidelity–in a City of Broken Vows.
1126. Take care of yourself; get plenty of rest. You’ll need it.
1127. Your power is your prison; your secret is your weakness.
1128. Your every wish fulfilled becomes a future nightmare.
1129. You’re an old-fashioned relic of a shattered regime.
1130. Anything is possible; only your ship is never coming in.
1131. By living only to fail you fail to live.
1132. You are anxious about lost innocence you never had.
1133. Your education only taught you to accept your own undoing.
1134. Your free will is paradoxically your tyrant.
1135. Jealous barber, throat slash, basement grave, nosy coppers, hot seat.
1136. Her smile is killing you. Literally.
1137. Sinner, beware! Acts of God are closer than they appear.
1138. Your lazy self pity will be shattered by hard reality.
1139. You are nothing but a donkey with a hard mouth.
1140. That’s all there is and there ain’t no more.
1141. You are the answer to no one’s prayer.
1142. Sit down. Shut up. Nobody cares about a stupid old man.
1143. Your pregnant wife is a secret drinker.
1144. They all judge you; not one is merciful or kind.
1145. All the devils in the world are glaring–at you.
1146. Even your one friend calls you a dyspeptic crank.
1147. Why do you talk, crazed one, when there’s nobody to listen?
1148. Even your loyal dog flees–from the scent of murder.
1149. Surrender. You are a man who has been completely used up.
1150. You are the identical twin of a known serial killer.
1151. The snowdrift provides a cool white blanket. Sleep, drunken one.
1152. At forty you had neither a heart nor a brain.
1153. She would never have married you; you are just a thug.
1154. The man who knows your secrets is now your most bitter foe.
1155. You are trash. What happens to trash? It gets burned.
1156. Proud fool–your head shall be made to bow in sorrow.
1157. Even now, the FBI is aggressively interrogating your nosy neighbors.
1158. You should be born again as somebody else. Somebody good.
1159. You’re so changed your high school sweetheart doesn’t recognize you.
1160. She would never have loved you if she had known.
1161. You are dead to all your friends and soon for real.
1162. Tired? That’s no excuse. Most people are tired.
1163. You are truly without friends–and deserve to be.
1164. Bad parents, squandered chances, sad carelessness–death by misadventure.
1165. You are afraid of that looming Jersey Barrier–and you are justified.
1166. Your parents should have kept the dog and given you away.
1167. Those burly men who tease you at the bar are not your friends.
1168. Surrender all your desires–they will never be fulfilled anyway.
1169. They do not suspect your quiet exterior conceals a seething rage.
1170. You will never find your way home. You have no home.
1171. Being a broken-down old man is now your full-time job.
1172. Your short life has been one long misadventure.
1173. All of your secret self-doubts are now public record.
1174. Even your loved ones grow tired of your excuses.
1175. The psychiatrist can’t help you. Nobody can.
1176. Nobody wants to hear the complaints of a bitter old man.
1177. Bald, ugly, and stupid–you might as well stay at home.
1178. The world is a conspiracy to ignore you.
1179. Even the friendly dog bares his teeth in your presence.
1180. Concerned parents forbid their children from talking to you.
1181. Your life is now in its anticlimax.
1182. You are such a dinosaur even the old shun you.
1183. People look at you and silently shake their heads.
1184. They have recorded your every crime on video.
1185. Soon you will pay for all your foolish misdeeds.
1186. Every day is, for you, the final judgment.
1187. Hell? This is hell, nor are you out of it.
1188. You will never win the lottery, so why bother?
1189. Yours will be a life of deprivation and squalor.
1190. You are quickly coming to the end of your tether.
1191. Your very presence is enough to bother people.
1192. Why don’t you surrender now, and save us all some trouble?
1193. You are not fit to even shine the shoes of your superiors.
1194. Fool–you can’t even hold down a minimum wage job.
1195. You have been educated in the school of black folly.
1196. Why don’t you stay at home and leave decent people in peace?
1197. You may have brains, but they are the wrong kind.
1198. You are scrounging for pennies in a land of millionaires.
1199. You should never have tried to rise above your station.
1200. All that is left for you now is sweet, endless sleep.

 

  1. SEVENTY-FIVE PROVERBS

Visualize world police.
High school is a hospital where they amputate your imagination.
Nobody ever remembers the man who gives them the amnesia pills.
There is nothing sadder than a superannuated funnyman.
My anger is cool but yours is just stupid.
The American Empire’s mythology is the commodification of all myth.
The losers can also write history.
Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder.
My police state, right or wrong.
This is no country for old memes.
No ideology please, we’re Americans.
America is zoned for business, not beauty.
While the world about us rages, let’s go back to the media pages.
Television programming is the random ephemera of an infinite flea market.
Justice is no more than a luxury.
Art is a time capsule for the zeitgeist.
What manner of man doth dare declare me pompous?
Advertising is a cheerful record of American selfishness.
Tradition must change.
Irony “rules,” “ok?”
Hate will also find a way.
We’re all somebody’s idiot.
Experience is a useful pill to purge optimism.
My instinct is to do the indecisive thing–but I’m not sure exactly
what that is.
A memoir commemorates our self-deception .
The present isn’t what it used to be.
Abandon hope, all ye who hit ‘enter’ here.
Old men often offer laughably anachronistic advice.
Candor is our only socially acceptable guile.
Life is simply a quiet accumulation of tyrannies and traumas.
Let a simile be your umbrella.
You have the right to remain salient.
Me is the new you.
A marriage is made in heaven and lived in hell.
There is a terrifying wasteland between innocence and hysteria.
Inside of every woman there’s a fat man struggling to get out–me.
All liberals are stupid and all conservatives are fat.
Key definitions drive the plot.
Fanaticism is belief exploded and hardened into dogma.
The category of our expectations is made to be ruptured.
Our short national daydream is beginning.
Democratic politics seldom explores the vast middle ground between
buffoonery and cant.
Past controversies are always quaint.
Junkies are like, so 20th century.
Life is but a gene.
The simplest explanation is always this: They lied.
The shameless succeed.
When we reunite with our relatives we become uncomfortable spectators
of our own stupidities.
Procreation is the thief of time.
We rage against the coming of the light.
We are often more spinned against than spinning.
Sound is a bell and silence is that it has not been rung.
Our choice of friends merely betrays the networks of our ambivalence.
Time creates the mosaic of reality.
Now is always the bronze age.
They want to make you think there’s something wrong.
Our destiny whistles through a hollow shell.
Let’s not forget the sins of the grandfathers, too.
Beware the patience of an angry man.
Pepperoni is just baloney with attitude.
All art is sexual harassment.
All slogans are rhetorical substitutes for evidence.
Xenophobes all ought to go back to where they didn’t come from.
Save the country–win valuable prizes!
The internet is a fount of useful misinformation.
Propaganda is a machine for the betrayal of the meaning of words.
Television is a voracious mirror.

There is no piece of turf so small that it can’t be fought over.
Driving is Dada.
The more illusory the enemy the more relentlessly he must be hunted down.
Impracticality is the greatest sin.
Many things once considered right in time become wrong.
Who push the experts on, they are the gods.
Arty means dirty and smart means dull.

It’s the end of the word as we know it and I–

 3. NEWSPAPERS

Read a newspaper on any given day, and you’ll learn the following important facts:

 MOM DECRIES SEX AND VIOLENCE IN MEDIA

 METAL GARBAGE CANS FOIL FERAL DOGS

POLICE CONCERNED REGARDING TEEN DRINKING

ELDERLY MAN TURNS TO GOD

 LOCAL YOUTH WINS AREA SPELLING BEE

POLL: VOTERS TIRED OF NEGATIVE CAMPAIGN ADS

FANS SHOW TEAM COLORS

RESTAURANT GIVEAWAY SEES LINES AROUND BLOCK

SURVIVORS MOURN ON ANNIVERSARY OF TRAGEDY

AREA MAN HARVESTS RECORD-BREAKING PUMPKIN

ICEBERGS A THREAT TO MERCHANT MARINE

 Now, if I owned a newspaper, the headlines would be something like this:

MASSES LIVE IN FEAR OF UNDEFINED FOES

GANG MEMBERS DIE DEFENDING WORTHLESS TURF

PRO-GOVERNMENT PROPAGANDA PERVADES TELEVISED MEDIA

SPORTS: STUPEFYING PALLIATIVE FOR BUM ECONOMY

 TALK-RADIO SHOWS PREACH TO THE CONVERTED

MISFITS AND CRANKS ALSO EXCHANGE MEANINGLESS BANTER IN TAVERNS

BITTER KOOKS AND RECLUSES FIND SATISFACTION IN CURSING MINORITIES

VIOLENCE SEEN AS CURE-ALL BY DRUNKS AND LOUTS

 SPY AND SPACE OPERAS KOWTOW TO MILITARY SOLUTIONS

ACTORS, H’WOOD PRODUCERS IN THRALL TO MILITARY-CIA

CONDENSED TV NEWS DISTORTS REALITY

HEIROPHANTS GIVE PEOPLE ‘WHAT THEY WANT’: DOMINATION

MEDIA GLORIFIES DEAD-END ‘GANGSTA’ SCRIPT

 

  1. MOVIE REVIEWER CODE: WHAT THEY SAY AND WHAT IT REALLY MEANS

“Wickedly funny” = Stupid.

“A non-stop, action-packed thrill ride” = Infantile.

“Fun for the whole family” = Insipid. 

“A new American classic” = Sentimental horseshit.

“A roller-coaster ride” = No real plot, but plenty of gratuitous violence.

“___: The Sequel” = Same old shit in a different wrapper.

“A stylish, provocative thriller” = Harbors illusions of larger significance.

“Heartwarming” = Insufferably sententious and sentimental.

“Will put a smile on your face” = Utter lugubrious pap.

“Inspirational” = Moronic.

“Intriguing” = Baffling.

“Rollicking fun” = Really dumb.

“Significant” = Boring.

“A worthy successor to…” = No original ideas here.

“From the Producers of…” = We couldn’t get the same star or the same director from our first fluke hit to return.

“Tells about a forgotten aspect of history” = This sucks, but it would be injudicious not to praise it.

“Magic” = Improbable farrago of fantasy elements.

“The best family comedy of the year” = The only family comedy released this year with decent production values.

 “Fun!” = It is so stupid that you will want to tear your hair out.

 “High octane fun” = Idiotic hijinx amid senseless simulated slaughter.

 “Non-stop action” = The Star’s tits are bigger than those of the female lead’s.

 “X AND Y ARE PERFECT TOGETHER!” = The star looks like he would rather kiss, rather than snack on, the face of the female lead.

 5. GROWING UP CATLICK
What’s the deal with mackerel snappers?

Honestly?!

Their shining clean houses always smell like cheap hotel soap–the
kind that comes in a white wrapper with purple lettering–“Casmere Bouquet”–

and they’ve even got a garish chipped plaster replica of their groovy crucified
messiah hanging on the wall of the garret that’s been converted into a
guest bedroom. The bedroom in question always has some kind of
raggedly blanket-type thing ineptly knitted from fat yarn by a
superannuated nun with a severe case of macular degeneration. Can’t
throw it away! It would be a sin! So they keep this dusty relic on the
bed, where it gathers cabbage-scented dust. It itches in the summer,
and as you lie beneath it in the winter your balls shrivel to the size
of Jerusalem almonds because you’re freezing half to death. They don’t
believe in turning on the furnace, either, you see. “Heat rises,” they
say. The hell it does! Not when you’re a Gorton-gobbling poormouth
Papist wretch living in the house of Our Lady of Perpetual Pain!

I mean, really! They might as well be living in a fucking igloo!

But they don’t eat blubber.

No, they count every fucking pea on the plate, lest they somehow
commit the sin of gluttony. They drink vile soup in a snap-top bottle
made from a recipe last popular in 1642.

They use the expression “My Goodness” a lot.

They think Batman is an invention of the devil.

And that irony comes straight from the scrapbook of the Antichrist.

And, like the ancient Romans and their household gods, they clutch in
their sweaty talons a laminated card with a blurry picture of their
personal saint, to whom they incessantly mumble through chipped
dentures an odious shopping list of their insipid desires.

And they never even pray for anything useful!

Furthermore, even when they do ask for something, they’re always
couching it in the form of some pathetically laughable deal!

“Please, St. Michael–while I’m up here in the guest room attic–if
only I can find the box with that nodding dog that Mee-maw gave me
back in 1957, I’ll never drive over 40 again!”

And even in their sleep, they mutter things like “Jesu Christu,” and
“Bingo has been called–hold your markers, please!”

They can just about drive you nuts with their magical thinking and
irrational superstitions.

Plus, when it comes time to unclutch some of their dough-re-me, all of a
sudden they conveniently forget all about the “Render unto Caesar”
clause. They’ll give their food money to the bloated coffers of
their precious church, and meanwhile, Baby needs a new pair of shoes! I
mean, come on! The money they spend on useless crap like sacred
candles and mass cards could easily be invested at 4 per cent and in their
old age they could retire in Nova Scotia in an oceanfront resort
cabin!

But no–they’d rather be sitting around a cheap formica table with
their grizzled cronies from the Council on Aging, gumming potato candy
and mumbling novenas. You want to tell them, “Listen, pilgrim–this
hair shirt jazz went out with Savoranola! Get wise to yourself! Wake
up and live a little! That cute young parish priest is just another
chubby, slick-haired racketeer, only with a starched collar and holy
water! Spend the moolah on yourself!”

But no. The one thing a person who has made the same mistake their
whole life long simply will not do is buck a losing trend.

And the lapsed ones? Oh, they’re the worst. Mainly because, like me,
they’re always pointing out and trying to enforce nonexistent rules of
imagined decorum.

Watch out for them. Watch out.

 

  1. WHY CAN’T YOU BE LIKE THE REST OF THE WORLD AND SHUT UP?

Walk it off and quit yer blubberin’, chief.
Man up, Cowboy. We all got a hard row to hoe.
Get some seeds.
Buck up, Bucko.
Wipe the water out from behind your ears and get biz-zay.
Suck it up, Bohunk. The world will turn without you.
Less Talkee, More Workee, Cabin Boy.
Get a clue, Lifer. Let your hair down.
Sleep in the grave, Noddy. Hustle hustle hustle!
Quit slurpin’ them onion rings, Lard, and get a move on.
Hit it or quit it, L7.
Unglue your ass from that sofa and get your shit together.
And remember: Coffee is for closers only.

 

  1. ALL POLITICAL FANATICS MUST IMMEDIATELY BE DESTROYED!

Bob Hope, confronted by protesters at the 1971 Miss World Pageant,
remarked, “Anyone who wants to disrupt something as beautiful as this
must be on some kind of dope. The perpetrators will pay for this.
Upstairs will see to that.”–Gerard J. DeGroot, “The Sixties Unplugged,” p. 288.

I MUST HUMBLY CONFESS that I am steadily growing to strongly dislike
all people who see every single thing as some sort of excuse to have a
political agenda.

Surely you must know the types–common, everyday nobodies folks who
somehow feel like they deserve some kind of an award for not being a
fascist robot.

Sanctimonious, self-righteous bastards, refusing to work for Hitler
Incorporated and declining to fuel the Amerikkkan death machine.

Pompous asses.

I long to smash in all their smug faces.

Filthy humanists.

Always babbling about such archaic notions as “individual choice” and
“the freedom to refuse.”

They must be forced to break stones for the new economy until they
collapse into a numbed stupor.

No time clocks, indeed!

Who do these filthy hippies think they are?

MANAGEMENT???

I’ll bet they’re be sorry when the boys upstairs get wind of their shenanigans.

These bohemians and their left-handed cigareets make muh haid spin.

Listen, you parasites: I got news for ya.

Some people see things as they are and say, “Why?”

I see things that never were and say, “Die, you blood-sucking freaks–die!!!”

Maybe if some of you beatniks took a cold bath, you might wake up out
of your wacky tobaccy stupor and earn an honest living instead of
mooching off my hard-earned tax dollar and gumming at the teat of of
Uncle Sugar.

Godspeed that day.

8. Christian Band Names

YESHUA SKYLINE

  • STRAW GODS
    THE ENGLISH BEATITUDES
    THE MESSIAHS OF SCREAMO
    HE WHO
    CHURCH OF THE NEW LORDS
    CRYSTAL MESSIAH
    I CAN SEE HIS HOUSE FROM HERE
    MOTH AND RUST
    THE HEARTFULLY SORRY
    EIDOLOCLASM
    THE FOUR MOPTOPS OF THE APOCALYPSE
    INCARNATION EVAPORATED MILK
    THE MISSALS OF ROCKTOBER
    ME LOVE HIM LONG TIME
    SYSTEM OF A DOGMA
    TO BRING A SWORD
    TEENAGE CENTURIONS FOR THE COMING ARMAGEDDON
    ARE YOU RUNNING WITH ME JESUS?
    THE GOD STANDARD
    INVISIBLE FURY
    THIS MAJESTICAL ROOF
    THE MIRACLE FOOLS
    DARKLY FAMISHED AT OUR FEASTING
    YESTERDAY’S HERETICS
    WONDERFUL AGITPROP
    BROSEPHUS
    THE JEW PUNCHERS
    NAKED WHORES WILL DIE
    UNCA ESPERANZA
    THE JESUS ENABLERS
    GOD KNOWS WHAT
    BOATS TO FOREVER
    FAITHFUL AND DISCREET SLAVE CLASS
    HE WHO IS GOD HAS SAID IT
    GOSPEL PLOW
    PROPHETS LOOKING BACKWARDS
    MISTER GODFINGER
    SAVAGE AMPITHEATRE
    MYSTIC APARTHEID
    NONBELIEVER, PLEASE
    THE SMITTEN
    MORE WONDERS OF THE INVISIBLE WORLD
    MESSIAH’S SCRATCHY FACE
    JESUS TAKE THE WHEEL
    FAT CHRISTIANS HAVE NO PRIDE
    GHOSTLY TRIO
    THE LORD DOG AND HIS SALIVATION ARMY
    FAKE TEARS OF MYRRH
    THE RELUCTANT MESSIAHS
    PASS THE MIGHTY WATERFALL
    SPEWING FORTH THE HOT PRISONER
    ZERO A.D.
    HUCKLEBERRY HELLHOUND
    THE WALLS OF EVERLASTING ROME
    JEHOVAH VACUUM CLEANER
    MESSIAH UP
    NEOLITHIC JESUS
    NOT SO FAST, HEATHENS
    PAGAN DOOM
    REVEREND DEVILLE
    THE ZEALOT ZONE
    ANIMA ACE
    LADY OF PAIN I ADORE YOU
    THE MOTHERS OF DIVINE INTERVENTION
    AX OF THE APOSTLES
    101 DAMNATIONS
    THERE AIN’T NO FLIES ON JESUS
    THE AKASIC RECORD COMPANY
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